


Exorcise My Mind

by cantthinkofausername_B_Pike



Series: Carry On Countdown 2017 [3]
Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Baz is Hopeless TM, Carry On Countdown, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Vague Masturbation, except it's more like the Pensieve than actual time travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-02-06 11:04:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12816162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cantthinkofausername_B_Pike/pseuds/cantthinkofausername_B_Pike
Summary: Simon accidentally casts a spell allowing him to see some of Baz's memories.Day 3 of the Countdown, but it's a pretty loose interpretation of time travel.





	Exorcise My Mind

**Author's Note:**

> How many times can I write Snowbaz getting together? I may never know. Title is from Send Them Off! by Bastille. As always, thanks to my sister for putting up with my pestering and betaing this.  
> Warning: there's some cursing in the beginning, which is probably excessive.

We’re fighting again. I don’t even remember why anymore. Maybe Baz closed the window, or I knocked something over, or something else inconsequential happened. But now here we are, hurling insults back and forth. As always.

“What the fuck, Snow, can’t you just behave like a normal goddamn human being for once?” He yells.

“Yeah, because you do such a great job of that!” I fire back. “Always sneaking off in the middle of the night!”

“At least I’m a competent magician! You’re a disaster, Snow!”

This is the same argument we have every time, and it still hurts. I know he hates me, and I never expect anything else of him, but somehow he always manages to surprise me.

“Oh, I’m sorry I can’t be as fucking perfect as you,” I say, words coated with venom. “Top of the class, captain of the football team, a bloody _vampire_ -”

“All I’m asking, Snow,” he cuts me off, “is for you to not spontaneously combust and maybe watch where you’re going!”

I turn around, preparing to dramatically storm off, before I remember that I have nowhere to storm off to. My eye catches on my Greek homework, and I sigh. I angrily march over to my desk, sit down, and resolutely stare at the problems.

I can’t concentrate, and it’s not just because my Greek is horrific. I can practically feel Baz’s eyes boring holes in my back. It’s not a pleasant feeling, having my evil roommate intently staring at me. He’s probably plotting.

“Baz,” I spin my chair around to face him, “can you stop staring at me? I get that you’re mad, but it’s really weirding me out.”

Baz blinks, and I can see his mask settling into place. Whatever he was really thinking about, there’s no way he’ll tell me.

“Someone has to keep an eye on you. Otherwise, you’d probably manage to get yourself killed.” He rolls his eyes.

Yeah, right. “Would make your job easier.”

A flash of surprise crosses his face, so quickly I almost miss it. Somehow, for a second he’d forgotten he’s going to have to kill me, one day.

“It’s no fun that way.” He smiles, but it’s a sharp twist of his lips. He’s mocking something, and this time I’m sure it’s not me.

“You don’t make any _sense,_ ” I complain. “I don’t **know what you’re thinking**.” I don’t mean to, and I don’t know how because it’s not a spell, but that last part comes out laced with magic.

Baz’s eyes widen. He starts to say something, but no sound comes out. _That’s strange,_ I think. Then I notice that the whole room is frozen. The muffled noise of Rhys’s TV from downstairs has stopped. The paper I accidentally knocked off my desk isn’t falling anymore, it’s suspended in midair. Baz is halfway between sitting and standing, his mouth open and eyes panicked.

I blink, and when I open my eyes I’m outside. I’m still at Watford, but it’s not dark out. It’s the middle of the day, and somehow, it’s summer again. The leaves are just beginning to turn. All around me, kids are nervously walking up to each other and shaking hands. These are first years, I realize, and the Crucible has just given them their roommates. I have no idea what I’m doing here or how I got here. Standing next to me, I see Baz. Eleven-year-old Baz.

Seeing Baz like this is strange. He’s always been taller than me, more in command of the situation than me. Now, I’m seeing him how he really was – a little kid. A horrifically arrogant little kid.

 _What is going on?_ I guess I somehow cast a spell to see what Baz was thinking, and now I’ve actually ended up in his memories. Which would mean, any second now –

I walk up to Baz – or rather, eleven-year-old me does. Looking at myself from the outside is probably the weirdest thing that’s happened to me, and that’s saying a lot. I was short, painfully thin, and I was bouncing that red ball. I can’t look at my eleven-year-old self without seeing the Humdrum. Even though I know it’s me, I’ve seen my own face on the Humdrum more often than I’ve seen it on myself.

I know how this scene plays out. Baz refuses to shake my hand for the longest time, even though he knows the Crucible won’t leave us alone until he does. I can remember what I was thinking at the time, about Baz being irritating and horrible and asking myself why the Crucible ever put us together. I didn’t even know him at the time, but it didn’t take long for me to learn to hate him. Only now, I know what Baz was thinking too.

 _Of all the people. Why did it have to be him? He shouldn’t even be here. What the hell is the Crucible on about now?_ He sees how uncomfortable I was, and abruptly stops complaining. Figuring out how to make my life hell is more important than that. I remember what the pull of the Crucible felt like, that it felt irresistible. Yet somehow, out of pure spite, Baz manages to resist it. _The worst person at Watford,_ he thinks, equally angry and despairing, _and somehow he’s my roommate._

Between one second and the next, the scene switches. Now I’m sitting in the shade of a tree in the middle of campus. Baz is there too, flanked by Dev and Niall. It must be just after classes; the sun’s still up high enough to be obscured by the leaves above us. It’s warm out, so the school year must have just started or be about to end. I don’t remember this, not like the last scene. They’re leaning against the trunk, watching the other students on the lawn like kings. In a way, they are. They can’t be more than thirteen.

Agatha, Penny and I walk out of a building across the yard. We’re holding notebooks, talking, and laughing. 

Dev whistles. Baz raises his eyebrow in a question.

“Agatha,” Dev responds.

Niall nods in agreement. “Damn.”

“Hottest girl in our year.”

“You’re telling me.”

“Don’t know what she sees in _those_ two.”

“Me either.”

Baz remains silent. I can feel Baz’s hatred for the group that’s still walking across the lawn, the group with me in it. That hatred includes Agatha, she’s guilty by association. But that shares center stage with confusion. Baz is looking intently at Agatha, trying to see what Dev and Niall so clearly do, but he doesn’t feel anything.

That’s interesting. So maybe Baz wasn’t trying to steal Agatha. _Just because he didn’t like her at thirteen, I remind myself, doesn’t mean that he doesn’t like her now._

“I think I’m gonna ask her out,” Dev says.

Niall raises his eyebrows, impressed. “You think she’ll say yes?”

“Who could resist these looks?” Dev jokes.

Niall rolls his eyes.

“Doesn’t hurt to ask,” Dev says. He looks at Baz, who is still silent. “Unless you were going to?”

Baz is surprised; the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. He’s also surprised Dev thought to ask him, though he’s not sure why. “Nah, you go ahead.”

Several feet away, my thirteen-year-old self splits from the girls and turns to walk to Mummers House, cheerily waving as I go.

Dev hops up and begins to walk over to Agatha, who is still talking with Penny.

“Good luck!” Niall yells.

Baz voices his support as well, but I don’t hear what he says.

Niall watches Dev talk with Agatha like someone might watch a television program – interestedly but waiting for the inevitable end. Baz, however, turns around. He’s looking at me. Not me, sitting next to him, but the younger me on the lawn. The confusion he felt earlier returns full force. _Why do they like Agatha?_ He thinks. _Snow is hotter than Agatha. Objectively. If he weren’t so terrible. I guess Agatha is pretty. Why don’t I like Agatha?_

I’ve never been so confused. I’m glad when the scene changes. Or at least, I am until I see where I am now.

It’s nearly pitch black, but I can still tell I’m in my room. Our room. I’m not there, which doesn’t make sense because it’s the middle of the night. Where would I be?

Baz is older now, maybe fifteen or sixteen. I can barely see him in this light. He’s sitting on his bed with his eyes closed, and his hand is –

I shut my eyes and try to will myself out of this memory. It doesn’t work. I’m still there, in the dark room, and I still know what Baz is thinking. There aren’t coherent thoughts, just waves of want and hatred and _want_ and shame. It isn’t until I hear a strangled gasp of _“Simon”_ that the memory fades.

I want out of these memories. I’m scared of what I’m going to see next. The last eight years are restructuring themselves in my head, and I’m not sure I like the picture it paints. On second thought, I’m not sure I want out. When I leave, I’ll have to face Baz, and everything I was going to say before, whatever righteous ground I thought I stood on, has just been swept out from under me.

It turns out I don’t get much choice in the matter, because as much as I didn’t want to see any more of Baz’s mind (this is an invasion of his privacy, I realize), I’m caught in the current. I open my eyes, and I’m still in our room, but it’s late afternoon now. The sun is slowly sinking over the Wavering Wood. I’m sitting in my desk chair, the same place I was when I started this whole deal. Well, _I’m_ not sitting there, I’m standing next to myself from Baz’s memory.

Baz is sitting at his desk. I’m doing homework, and I get the sense he’s supposed to be as well, but he’s spun his chair around and is looking at me. His hair is falling in his face, and he looks completely at peace. I’ve never seen him like this. His thoughts don’t match; they’re chaotic, coming at me from all sides. I can’t pick up on one specific thread, so all I hear is a storm of _me. Beautiful. …and the **light** on his **hair** … Moles. Love. Love. Love._ It’s an avalanche of adoration, and my heart is so full it’s hard to breathe. But underneath, there’s a dark current of hopelessness. There are so many thoughts, all of them _I wish it was real_. I can feel his longing, and it’s not just physical, not anymore. He’s chosen me, all of me, and I don’t know how I didn’t see this before.

I don’t even have to blink to snap out of it. The sun is mostly gone now, the last few beams slicing through the room. The muffled gunfire from Rhys’s cop show has resumed, and my papers slowly float to the ground. I’m on my feet in front of my chair, though I don’t remember standing up. Baz’s hands cover his face, and he’s slowly sitting down on his bed. He looks – ashamed? Embarrassed? Scared?

But, how would he know? Unless – he’s just been through the same memories with me. Shit.

“Did that just happen?” He asks. “How did you do that?”

“Does it matter?”

Baz laughs weakly. “No.”

He’s waiting for me to speak, and that in itself is telling. He’s never missed an opportunity to mock me for not finding words before. Now, I’m the judge and he’s waiting for my verdict. 

My first instinct would be to ask “How long?’, but I already know the answer. Eventually, Baz decides he can’t wait any longer. “Do you hate me?” He whispers, and my heart breaks.

“I hated you before,” I say. “Now… I’m not so sure.”

He lowers his hands, and his eyes find mine. They’re rimmed in red, and I can see how close he is to breaking. 

“Nobody’s ever loved me that much before,” I confess. “And I never even considered that it could be you. But this…”

“What?” He asks hesitantly.

I answer slowly, still tripping over my words. “I don’t hate you. But I think I’m closer to understanding. So I can’t just – I have to think about it. It’ll take me a while. But while I do that, if you want to maybe call a truce, I wouldn’t be opposed. And after that, who knows?”

He smiles, eyes shining with tears he won’t let fall. “Okay.”

“I’m not saying things won’t work out,” I say, “I just can’t promise they will.”

He nods sadly. “It’s a lot. I’ll just…” He leaves, and the room is suddenly both freer and emptier.

I lie on my bed, staring at the ceiling. What happens now? I’d never thought of Baz that way. I’d never thought of _boys_ that way. I’ve always been jealous of Baz though – his looks, his intelligence, his talent for football. Now, I can’t help but wonder if that jealously was my way of processing attraction. I’m worried when he’s not around, which I’d always thought was to protect my wellbeing. If I could see him, he couldn’t be plotting to kill me. But was that a way to rationalize concern for the boy I’d thought to be my enemy?

I wish Penny was here. Or Baz. Someone. I roll over and try to stop thinking about it.

It doesn’t work. I toss and turn, staring at the wall only to roll over and stare at the ceiling. Eventually, I can’t take it anymore. What I saw is playing over and over in my head, and it’s driving me crazy.

 

**To: lucky penny  
** i need to talk to u  
come over? 

**From: lucky penny  
omw**

 

A few minutes later, Penny stomps into the room. Her purple hair is bouncing up and down with every step she takes. She’s irritated at something, and it doesn’t take much to guess what.

“Trixie?”

“I walked in on them,” she complains. “Again!”

“You could knock?” I suggest.

She scoffs. “I’m not knocking to enter my own room. So what’s up?”

“I, ah, Baz, I, um,” I stutter.

“Mhmm?”

“I don’t – I don’t know, exactly.”

“Okay, well, what happened?”

I turn red. “I may have, accidentally, seen some of Baz’s memories. Accidentally.”

“How did you manage that? That’s not a spell I’ve ever heard of. Can you create new spells now?” She’s got this look in her eye that says if I don’t do something soon, she’ll go off on this tangent for hours. Any second now, she might suggest going to the library to do research.

“That’s not the point!” I interrupt. “I had to watch Baz jerking off to me!”

Penny’s jaw drops. “You _watched?_ ”

“Well, no, I closed my eyes, but still!”

“Wasn’t the best way to find out, I suppose,” Penny muses.

I’m still talking. “It was horrible! I never needed to see that! Or hear it, I guess. Wait, what do you mean, ‘find out’? Find out that my roommate has been jerking off to me _since fifth year?_ Did you _know_ about this?”

She grimaces. “Everyone knows. Not details, but I think his crush is big enough to be seen from space. He still thinks it’s a secret though. You didn’t know?”

I shake my head.

“What are you going to do?” She asks softly, like she’s concerned.

I shrug. That’s what I wanted to talk to her about.

“Have you talked to him?”

“I think we’re on a truce.” I shrug again.

“And is that what you want?”

“I don’t know,” I say hopelessly. I’m tired of fighting, but I don’t – I’m straight, right? Right? (I’m not so sure anymore.)

“Simon, I can’t tell you what you want. You have to figure that out for yourself.” I nod, and she starts toward the door. “But don’t string him along. He’ll wait for you forever. He doesn’t deserve that.”

I don’t know when I stopped thinking of him as an evil, plotting vampire. When he became a boy whose heart I held in my inept hands. “He deserves better than me. Someone who knows what they want.” Someone who knows what they are.

Penny sits next to me again, and I lean on her. “To him, I don’t think there is anyone better than you.”

“I’m scared.” I’m terrified. By how quickly my world has changed around me. That I’ve messed things up somehow. That I won’t be enough.

She smiles crookedly. “I’d be worried if you weren’t. Do you know, now?”

I smile back. “I think so.”

“Good luck.” She waves as she leaves.

When Baz opens the door an hour or two later, I sit up and face him. It’s late enough now that the sun has set, and the room is dark.

“I’ve thought about it,” I say. I’m still scared, but I try not to show it.

“That was fast,” Baz remarks, but rolling his eyes doesn’t hide the hope I see there.

“I don’t know you, not really. Not when you’re not trying to push me away. But I’d like to. So,” I walk over to where he stands, frozen, in front of the door, “if you want, we could try.” I’m surprising myself.

“Really?”

I take his hand, and I’ve never seen him so happy. 

He leans down to kiss me, and any doubts I had about liking him are swept away. This kiss is slow and hesitant, neither of us sure where the boundaries are. It’s an answer – this feels right. Something we’d both been missing is settling into place.


End file.
